


Bodacious and Bodylicious

by Tigresse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Smut, Jealous John, Lots of Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, references to nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: Sherlock Holmes fits the title - perfectly.....in John Watson's eyes
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 81





	1. Sherlock has somewhere to be

Sherlock Holmes was, to put it very mildly, _a very unpredictable man_. He was someone who believed normalcy was a boring trait and took that mantra so seriously that at 221B Baker Street, which he shared with his professional and life partner Dr. John Watson, nothing was ever done the usual, expected, ordinary, regular or ‘normal’ way.

Other people had shelves and paintings on the walls, 221B had _bullet holes_. Other people kept food in the fridge, at 221B there could be _body parts_. Thirty one year old men usually wore clothes around the house, Sherlock walked about _naked_ whenever he wanted, sending poor John scuttling to close doors and shut the blinds on windows, lest someone spotted his mate with a powerful pair of binoculars. As a mini celeb, Sherlock did have such fans.

Over the course of the years as their relationship had developed from a ‘housemate’ status to split the rent to ‘fast friends and colleagues’ to ‘friends with benefits’ and eventually ‘lovers and partners’, John had become accustomed to Sherlock’s ways and lived under the impression that _only he_ could predict what the man was about to do or whether he was about to turn things upside down on a whim. He felt his radar was especially strong when it came to their personal lives since he was the only one Sherlock truly trusted and to whom the great detective presented his authentic self completely and transparently, with no pretenses at all. If Sherlock threw a tantrum he knew when to stay calm, when to ignore and when to stage an all-out intervention.

So, on a certain morning, when Sherlock walked out of the bedroom all ready for the day and looking at his watch, John was perplexed.

“Hey,” he said, “Where are you off to?”

“I have a commitment.”

“Commitment?”

“Yes, that’s what I said just now. Help me with the shoelaces.”

John rolled his eyes, set down his cup of tea and went down on a knee before his boyfriend, swiftly tying the shoelaces. “Um….these are new,” he commented on the rather nice shoes.

“Yes,” Sherlock said distractedly, checking something on his phone, “A gift.”

“I know they must be so because I do all your shopping for you, it’s either me or your mummy,” John remarked, getting up again, “Don’t you want breakfast? I have made ham, roasted pepper and spring onion frittata, the one you really like.”

“Um….keep it for me, I shall have it for lunch,” Sherlock hesitated just for a moment as he reached the door. This answer startled John because Sherlock usually never refused his food. Over the past three years, as they had ‘settled down’ as a couple, John’s culinary expertise had gone up by leaps and bounds and, unless he was on a case and completely unaware of his body’s needs, Sherlock had begun to enjoy home cooked food.

“Lunch,” John repeated, then sat up straighter, “Wait….”

The door of their flat closed behind Sherlock and he heard footsteps rushing down the stairwell. The two well-known creaky steps creaked extra hard as Sherlock went downstairs, then the front door opened and closed with extra noise. Clearly the detective was in a hurry to be somewhere. It wouldn’t have bothered John had it been a case because in their profession they often handled some serious emergencies. But Sherlock had said nothing about a case. Usually he always told John, whether or not he needed help from the doctor. “What’s going on….?” John asked aloud in the now-empty living room and ran to the window. He saw Sherlock sprint down the street and then…..

“Whose car is that???”

John watched, bewildered, as Sherlock sat in a silver Audi R8 and was driven off.

***

“You know, I am not exactly made of stone,” John said as he watched Sherlock saunter around the room naked, body still damp from the shower he had just had, combing his hairs and repeatedly checking himself in the mirror.

“Why are you stating the obvious,” Sherlock said noncommittally, humming a tune and taking one last look at his delectable rear before he climbed into bed next to his man.

“Because you happen to have a great body and an overall sensuality that’s kind of one in a hundred thousand,” John answered honestly, a wicked look in his eyes, “Because I have always found you very attractive and appealing. Because sometimes you can be demanding and insatiable but at other times you just parade your great beauty around me like a strutting peacock and expect me to be satisfied just with the ‘views’. Now I have a boner that I could use to hang a painting on, if that were possible.”

“I could have some use for that boner,” Sherlock lifted both legs and smiled back just as wickedly.

“That’s my boy,” John rasped, shedding off the pajama bottoms which was the only item of clothing on his body. His huge cock sprang out immediately.

“Daddy,” Sherlock moaned, caressing his own nipple. _He really knew how to play John._

“Fuck,” John climbed on top of him and reached for the lube, kissing the long column of Sherlock’s throat while he began to grind down on the younger man’s cock. Usually such moments saw Sherlock totally out of control, needy and succumbing to John’s charms and doting, but that day he made an unusual comment.

“Don’t mark me anywhere, okay?”

Usually they had different kinds and types of trysts; quick and randy banging, long and lazy coupling, short and hot fucks, somewhat drawn out and kinky sex, lovemaking that turned a bit violent and somewhat handsy with multiple rounds, they did everything and tried every position depending on their mood. Not that every single time Sherlock had a hickey on his neck or John sported a black eye, but it was still common for them to carry the ‘spoils’ of their bed games. John, though initially embarrassed and conscious, had become accustomed to the hushed chuckles and discreet glances when he had a sharp scratch on his neck or when Sherlock limped around suspiciously or had a purplish reddish mark on his jaw.

But Sherlock had never been the least bit bothered by those or what people thought. Then why now, why all of a sudden?

His bodily needs didn’t allow him to think too much and he dove into the long-awaited intimacy with his boyfriend, inserting his fingers into the younger man and opening him up nicely before he took him in the usual missionary style.

He took on a slightly dominant role, pinning Sherlock’s wrists over their heads and looking into his eyes as he fucked him hard and fast, watching every little change in the expressions of the green eyed man. The tight heat of his lover pleased John as much as it pleasured him and sent him into a sexual tizzy, but still a thought nagged at the back of his mind. Why did things seem so different with Sherlock today?

“Mmmmmhhh JAWN!”

John smiled when he realized what was happening. _He had nudged the sweet spot!_ Sherlock seemed to enjoy himself in bed, at least that bit had not changed.

“Mohrr,” Sherlock demanded and John smiled wider, cuddling his lover as he continued to plough into him.

As they both approached their peaks, Sherlock began to go taut and noisy, soft moans turning into loud groans. John on the other hand grew quieter, the occasional grunt showing how close he was. But the veins stood out on his forehead and his face turned red, his fingers literally digging into Sherlock’s sides as he lowered himself even more on to the younger man. As soon as Sherlock’s dripping erection got trapped between their bodies and got a few delicious rubs, he screamed out and came.

_Without a warning!_

An animal growl came out of John and he emptied himself the very next moment, shaking hard.

***

John woke up with a smile on his face. The earlier events of the day before had worn off from his mind and heart post their most passionate coupling before falling asleep. Sherlock’s face was inches from his own, those dark brown locks tickling his nose and forehead as they fluttered gently in the cool breeze of late spring, the warm and delicious body tucked around and curled up against his broader and more muscular frame. Sherlock all elf like and lean and graceful, John all stout and strong and soldierly, they were perfectly matched up despite some curious little differences. Reminded of them, a bemused John reached down his own body and palmed himself, his cock having stirred to life once more.

Maybe they could go for a _quick round_ ….it was the start of the weekend after all.

Those thoughts storming his mind, a still-smiling John turned his gaze back upon Sherlock’s face and got a start when those blue-green eyes opened suddenly and gazed back at him. At first Sherlock was half in the world of dreams but after a few rapid blinks he truly woke up, a hint of recognition coming over the handsome face. “If you’re planning on a quickie right now then I will end up peeing all over you Jawn,” Sherlock snickered and rolled away from the doctor, then slid out of bed. He went to the bathroom, quickly finished his morning routine and was back in the bedroom, still stark naked.

“Come back to bed,” John implored.

“Nope.”

“What? _Why?”_

Didn’t Sherlock love lie-ins? Yes he did! He loved staying in bed till noon and right now it was only 9 am! Then why was he so eager to get out of bed early and that too on a day when they had no work and nowhere else to be?!

“Why are you not coming back to bed?” John repeated his question, a bit irked by now though he didn’t exactly show it.

“Just don’t feel like it. Why? Can’t I _just get up_ early one morning?”

John sat up, scratching his head in a bewildered manner. This was again a _change_ in Sherlock and one that was most unexpected. Even John couldn’t see through this sudden need to avoid sex, get out of bed early and all that. He stared at Sherlock’s naked back.

The great detective was once again _admiring_ himself in the mirror, studying the pale skin and flat planes of his stomach before staring _downwards_ at the reasonably impressive and dark pink cock that was nestled in a thatch of trimmed pubic hairs. John felt a surge of jealousy and burst out, “At least wear some clothes or a robe for Christ’s sake.” He couldn’t scream ‘I am suffering from the sight of the exposed flesh’.

Sherlock shrugged, as if he had only just noticed he was nude. “Oh yeah, the robe, I’ll get that. By the way I’ll prepare breakfast today, before I head out for the day. So, would you like muesli and eggs or baked beans on toast?”

“Baked beans on toast,” John muttered in response and fell back on the bed, his head hitting the pillow with a thud. What the hell was going on? Was there a case? He hadn’t misheard the ‘ _before I got out for the day’_ part, did he? He tried to remain in bed but gave up after ten minutes and got out as well, throwing on his PJs and slippers and padding to the kitchen. Sherlock was in an incredibly good mood and was whistling as he went about preparing breakfast. Once a complete novice in the kitchen, the clever man had learned the tricks of preparing quick meals and one dish dinners rather well. He brewed tea, heated the can of baked beans in the microwave, prepared his muesli with lukewarm milk and chopped fruits, toasted the bread and prepared some scrambled eggs, all at one go.

“Need some help?” John asked, leaning against the doorframe. “Nope, can manage,” Sherlock said and started singing some tune.

John’s lips curled downwards in disappointment and envy. _Whoever it is, he must be some real charmer!_ _But where does that leave me?? Someone else made him sing, wake up early, get into such a good mood. I couldn’t do that_. “I mean with the case you’re handling,” he clarified.

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose, “Case?”

“Yes, you said you would be out the entire day.”

“No, it’s not about a case. I have another commitment.”

“Another commitment….”

The last two words John muttered under his breath, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “Would I see you for dinner?” He asked, huffing out an annoyed breath but not losing his cool yet. Sherlock was his _own person_ , John couldn’t expect _everything_ he did to include him. “Yes,” Sherlock replied as he literally gulped his tea and gobbled up his cereal, “Most probably.”

Ten minutes later John sat alone with his mostly uneaten breakfast on the kitchen table. “ _Most probably_ he said,” the good doctor murmured, feeling lonely and tense. Finally he too decided to go to work and put on some extra hours at the clinic.


	2. The truth is revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John smiled uneasily, “ About Sherlock…..”
> 
> “Speaking of him, why were you tailing him this morning.”
> 
> Nothing escapes the eyes of Mycroft Holmes......

Sherlock came back late that night, _smelling strange_ and _looking sleepy_. John, who was waiting for him, was struck by how happy the man looked despite the condition he was in. He flashed John a huge grin, yawned so hard that it almost cracked his jaw and mumbled ‘Going to bed, goodnight Jawn’ and went straight to the bedroom.

John waited for a few minutes, trying to calm the storm in his mind and hoping he was able to keep his cool. Though nothing had been established yet as facts, it was plainly evident that Sherlock was seeing someone else on the sly. Or was it even ‘on the sly’? He seemed to be rather nonchalant and careless about it. What was the reason? Did he not care that John would get to know or was he so condescending about John’s wisdom that he didn’t think the doctor would understand!

Whichever reason it was, it showed that either Sherlock took him for granted or took their relationship with an ounce of salt. Wow! After five and half years this was what he got for being a dutiful, attentive and caring boyfriend, for loving Sherlock so much that he always put him first?? How many of the genius’ eccentricities had he looked away from, how many of his outbursts had he accepted as ‘he’s having a moment’ and forgiven him, just because he wanted to maintain peace between them? How often had he forgiven Sherlock his boorish behavior just because he loved the man too much and always thought ‘This is my Lockie, doesn’t matter what he said or did’!!

With a huge sigh John got up and headed to the bedroom. When he walked in he heard the soft snores from his mate and when he bent down to kiss the sleeping man he smelled the alcohol. Sherlock had been drinking! With every single passing moment John grew wearier and wearier with thoughts. Even after he lay down next to Sherlock the thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone, wouldn’t let him relax.

_Where did I fail?_

_What have I done to deserve it?_

_Will he walk away from me or should I walk away, let him be happy wherever he wants to be?_

_With whoever he wants to be with….._

He developed a mild headache and had to take an aspiring and a gallon of water to get rid his dry mouth and throat. He looked at his partner and saw the chapped lips. Being a doctor, he knew Sherlock would be dehydrating since alcohol always dehydrated the body while one slept. He made Sherlock drink two glasses of water which the detective obediently did, without even waking up properly.

It took John a long time to fall asleep.

***

That morning John wore the _detective’s hat_. When Sherlock woke up, showered, took a couple of aspirins and once again headed to ‘that unknown location’ for the third day running, John made no big deal of it but followed him from a safe distance. As always, the flashy sports car came to pick him up and the car eventually stopped in front of a large, sprawling property opposite to the Kensington palace grounds.

There were not many such properties in prime location in a busy, expensive and crowded city like London so John knew immediately that the other person was plenty rich. For a moment he even spotted that ‘person’ as he and Sherlock alighted from the car and walked indoors. It was a man alright, tall and thin like Sherlock, perhaps thinner, and a ginger. As they walked, he put an arm around Sherlock’s waist.

John sat in the cab he had taken to follow Sherlock to his destination, trying to keep his expression neutral as his heart clawed at itself. Discreetly he watched the other two, noting especially that the other man _didn’t wrap an arm around Sherlock’s shoulder but his waist_. The he rested his hand on the small of Sherlock’s back as he unlocked the front door and ushered him in. He was good looking and had panache and style, he was clearly rich and Sherlock was clearly smitten. Why else would he be with this man for three days and evenings, without a complaint? Usually Sherlock got bored very easily with people but not with this one. So he must have a stellar personality as well.

Feeling inadequate, unworthy and defeated John whispered to the cabbie ‘To Barts please’.

“Sure sir,” the cabbie said, “And if may _ask_ ….?”

“I wish you _didn’t_.”

“……Isn’t that the great sleuth Wilhelm Sherlock Scott Holmes?”

“William. Yes, that is the one!”

“Oh my,” the cabbie seemed quite amused and revealed himself to be a fan with a gushing tribute thereafter, “I have been reading your blog for over five years and read both the books that you have published in the last two years. Hounds of Baskerville and The Great Game are my favorites. That fellow Moriarty, what a cutesy guy but his looks are so misleading, aren’t they? Do you really believe he is dead?”

“Nah.”

“I am such a big fan.”

“Drive me to 221 B…..sorry Barts, right now please,” John was in no mood for chitchat and tried his best not to lose his temper, “I have to attend to a surgery and don’t want to be delayed.”

“Sure thing Dr. Watson,” the cabbie drove and talked away, “Sometimes we forget how multi-skilled you are. Doctor, writer, blogger, investigator, army man, you truly are the best partner for someone like Detective Holmes. But it was so _funny_ to see someone stalking the great detective just like he’s supposed to stalk the criminals and other characters for clues.”

***

John did indeed have two surgeries to attend to that day, one was the removal of some benign cists from a middle aged woman’s uterus and the other was a minor surgery on a man in his early sixties to remove an infected gallbladder. After going through all the motions with as much focus and concentration as possible and completing all the pre-surgery and post-surgery steps, John felt drained out that evening. The lack of proper sleep, a long day at work and his anxiety over _Sherlock’s strange behavior_ and newfound ‘admirer’ had shaken him to the core and though he was a man made out of metal, today he found himself unable to carry on.

Intending to take a long hot shower, nibble something from the fridge and hit the sack, probably after taking a mild sedative to keep himself knocked out, John reached home only to find Mycroft Holmes lingering in their living room.

“John good to see you,” Mycroft said with his trademark measured smile while John tried to offer him a fake one, “Sorry for just showing up but this was important. Friday if you can please take a day off and spend the day with me, Greg, mummy and daddy at my Hyde Park mansion. It’s Greg and my first anniversary and we wanted a quiet day in with family. It was Greg’s idea and oh yeah, he sends his regards. He’d have dropped in as well but he’s in a training with other peers, after the recent promotion up the ranks it’s a mandatory one he’s gotta sit through.”

John smiled uneasily, “I can take the day off and yes, I will be there. About Sherlock…..”

“Speaking of him, why were you tailing him this morning.”

_There it goes, the real reason he is here to talk to me. Nothing escapes the eyes of Mycroft Holmes._ “You could have invited me over phone or text or a WhatsApp message. Is this the actual reason you’re here at this hour? To find out if all is well?”

Mycroft didn’t even try to deny. “ _Is it_ then? I mean, is everything okay here?” He asked bluntly. “Yes,” John shrugged, expanding his arms to indicate he was puzzled by the question, “What do you mean by everything?”

“You and Sherlock?”

“Why this sudden question?”

“Just checking.”

“C’mon Mike. You never ‘just check’. Not in person.”

Mycroft offered a broader and genuine smile this time and John was reminded of the older brother who truly wanted them, John and Sherlock, to be together. He had been their subtle but biggest cheerleader, helping convince the parents and bringing them together as a family. The Eurus episode had brought them even closer as a group and John was thankful for it. He liked them all but then…..Sherlock was his bridge to the family. If Sherlock kicked his arse out on the street then would all of this come to an end? Would he be back in a bachelor pad, this time with enough and more money and a stable surgeon’s practice but without any partner or family around him?!

“John,” Mycroft began, voice gentle and steady, “Listen, if you need information, _any info_ , just pick up the phone and ask. Yes, sometimes it is tough to do that because certain things are well…just private. But I think I have an inkling what’s going on and can share with you some details. You do know about Victor Erwin Trevor, right?”

“Yes, his first sweetheart.”

“Well, that was a long time ago. Back in high school and college. Yes, they are friends now and Victor is in town. He flew in from America for a few days and Sherlock must be spending some time with him. While Sherlock isn’t very social, Victor is quite friendly and mingles easily with friends and acquaintances, throws the odd little party and all that. they must be having a happy get-together, a sort of ‘reunion’. That’s about it. Don’t overanalyze this please.”

“What makes you feel I am?” John asked defensively and regretted it. That was a giveaway.

“Why else would you tail him, follow your own partner from a distance….in a cab?”

***

Mycroft’s visit and his revelations had left John in a strange state.

He was caught between two ends of a spectrum; one moment he was like ‘this is over, he’s leaving me, the relationship is finished’ and the very next he went ‘what stupid thoughts, he is mine, this is just a temporary phase where I don’t fit in’.

Eventually he decided to drink some strong coffee, take that shower and confront Sherlock. No, wait, not confront but discuss. A confrontation or showdown was not the ideal way to deal with this. He had to be mature, controlled, sensible. He didn’t want to scratch Sherlock’s fragile senses. The detective, tough nut as he mostly was, had this softer side of him that was easily hurt. This was something no one aside from Mycroft and John knew about. He couldn’t take advantage of it, he had to protect it. So yes, it had to be a chat, an open and honest discussion and he’d ask the younger man some questions and let him respond.

_Instead of assuming the answers._

But, despite his best efforts, John fell asleep with a book still clutched in his arms. He had waited until 10:30 pm and then he dozed off, tired beyond tired and bored out of his mind. Life was simply colorless without Sherlock and John dreamt in his shallow slumber, peeking into a world where he saw himself lonely in a townhouse, coming home to an empty abode with no sounds of Sherlock yelling at an experiment gone wrong or whining at him and saying _, ‘Please don’t ignore me, you haven’t even asked me if I am bored for the lack of a case, there is no milk, tell me where my cigarettes are, Jawn…Jawn….Jawn….”_

“Jawn, John Watson, JAWN, wake up!”

John jumped up, hovering between a state of sleep and wakefulness, disorientation and reality, and he suddenly lost his balance and fell off the bed. He landed with a thump on the floor and that rough landing truly woke him up. Sherlock was laughing at him but extended a hand to haul him up. “You gave me a start,” John said, crimson from embarrassment as he stood up.

“I was trying to wake you up but you were deadbeat,” Sherlock shrugged, not remorseful at all, “I could have grabbed you as you fell but I thought this fall might wake you up properly.”

“Well, thanks a lot for being so considerate,” John rubbed his butt, “When did you come back?”

“An hour ago.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because I was waiting for the right time.”

John blinked, “Excuse me?”

“Happy birthday Jawn!”

John got the most pleasant surprise of his life as Sherlock led him to the living room where his birthday celebrations were just waiting for his presence. On the coffee table was a black forest cake which was John’s favorite, with candles on top and lit already and a huge neatly wrapped gift stood on the side. There was also food and drinks, a bowl of fresh strawberries, two bowls of spaghetti with meatballs which they both were partial to, and a bottle of champagne.

“You d-did all this…..oh God,” John stuttered, realizing instantaneously that he had got Sherlock’s behavior and activities all wrong over the past three days. Boy, _was he glad he hadn’t started interrogating the man and spoiled this beautiful surprise._


	3. Sexy Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John rewards Sherlock for his efforts

“Now will you tell me what’s been going on?” Sherlock asked once they had eaten a slice of cake each and John had popped open the bottle of champagne. The older man’s hand shook slightly as he poured the bubbly into a goblet but he didn’t answer. What was he going to say? _Sherlock, sorry, while you were trying to organize a birthday surprise for me I was busy figuring out how I’d deal with our breakup and your moving on from me!_ No way.

His reticence made Sherlock nudge him harder. “Look, if you’re going to try and distract me from what I have noticed already, then you must be forgetting who you live with. I am Sherlock Holmes and if I wish I can probably figure it all out by myself. But I’d prefer it if you tell me.”

Deciding to man up, be honest and apologize if needed, John finally opened his mouth. “I know you won’t really like to hear this Sherl but I thought you were probably seeing somebody, I mean….someone else. For three days running you’d been going out and staying out, no calls, no explanations, not even a case. I couldn’t figure out your reasons, I couldn’t ask since it would have sounded so juvenile and intrusive….and-and I ended up with a bunch of assumptions.” John stopped and threw a pleading glance at his lover, “When you came home last night you smelled of something different and you looked tired as if…..as if……well, sorry, clearly that’s not the case so I apologize for my behavior.”

“I was meeting a common friend of mine and Victor’s, remember the class fellow I spoke of,” Sherlock seemed fairly bemused rather than annoyed or upset, “What you smelled on me, the fact that I was drunk last night and the repeated late returns have one common reason behind them – Your birthday gift. It was because of your gift that I had to do all this….wait, just open your gift.”

“Yes, sure,” John said in a subdued manner, still reeling from self-inflicted sorrow at how he had misunderstood his man. He tried to hold the gift but it was long and heavy and he almost got buried underneath its weight.

“Let me help, here,” Sherlock offered and held one side while John held the other and untied the huge bow, then pulled off the translucent sheet covering it.

“OH SWEET JESUS!”

John was shocked at how his hand flew directly to his crotch the moment he glimpsed the painting which was supposed to be his birthday gift.

It was a portrait of a nude Sherlock, lying seductively on his front, the upper torso turned slightly to stare straight at the viewer. His beauty, sex-appeal and vibrance radiated straight off the canvas, enthralling John. From the tousled locks, the baby oil smothered shiny skin, the jutting hipbones, the swell of his buttocks and the dewy lips, it was so gorgeous and lifelike that John felt the man in the portrait would blink and step out of it any moment.

Had Sherlock not been around right now he would have masturbated over it. “Oh holy….” He bowed his head, unable to stare at it for too long. His underwear had a wet patch by now.

Then he felt the animal emerge from within him, turning him into half caveman and half beast. He put the painting down carefully on the couch, turned to Sherlock and growled ‘You sexy bitch’, grabbed him and lifted him as if he weighed nothing. Sherlock yelped but cooperated, snickering and putting his arms around John’s neck as he was carried to the bedroom. _Perhaps the bastard was expecting this! Oh well, good for him!_

***

“J-Jawn, slow down….I don’t wanna cum so soon….oh fuck….yeah…..can’t hold it…..fuck here it cums!!!” Sherlock’s screech of pleasure ended his incessant babblings as he was rimmed by John while the older man jerked him off with a slick, oily hands. Applying twisting strokes and frequent rubs over the sensitive slit and at the same time sticking his hard tongue into Sherlock’s hungry little hole had been as much of a pleasure for John as it was for Sherlock. As he felt the tight hole clench lusciously against his tongue and the jerks in his lover’s body as Sherlock unloaded on his stomach, John felt his blood rush south as well.

It took _all his willpower_ to not cum but watch Sherlock in the throes of his climax instead. And what a _wonderful_ sight it was! _A sight for sore eyes!_

Sherlock coiled tight all over, pushed his thighs in on John who was lying between them, thrust up his hips into nothing but air and shuddered so violently he seemed to be going into a seizure. Pearly creamy release flew out of the pretty cock and landed all over Sherlock, painting his chest, abs and shoulders. Some even flew to his face and landed on his cheek. “Hnnngggg,” was the only sound Sherlock made as his balls drained, before he lay in an immobile heap on the bed, limbs loose, jaw slack, eyes fluttering shut.

“My debauched angel,” John murmured as he went up the delectable and spent body and licked off every single drop. Sherlock kept moaning softly, the occasional loud moan coming out of him whenever the wet tongue touched his already super-sensitive skin. John noted that he was still quite hard and his hips were still making the occasional pumping thrust as John licked at the tip of his cock.

Dare they do it again, _right away?_

_I need to or else I’ll cum in my hand or on the bed, which I don’t intend to._

“Um baby boy, I have to be inside you now, I need to give your tiny little pussy a thorough pounding and once won’t make the cut tonight, okay?!” He spoke with enough ferocity to keep up their game but added enough gentleness to check for his lover’s comfort.

In response Sherlock spread his legs wider and murmured ‘Play with me’.

“You sure?”

“Own me, possess me, make me yours! Make me feel it so deep…..”

“First the nude painting, then your delicious body and _now you talk dirty to me_ …….Sherlock, do you want me to _implode_ before I even make it inside?” John temporarily shed off the act and implored with his lover, begging him with both eyes and voice. Sherlock understood and grinned like a smug little shit, then lifted both his legs to expose the now moist and gaping hole. Just waiting to swallow me up, John thought, giving his straining and aching erection a few tugs as he slathered lube over it. “That’s it,” he said as he climbed over Sherlock and placed the taller man’s calved over his shoulders, “Now you are going to keep cumming till you beg me to give us a rest!”

“J-Jawn…..” Sherlock’s eyes widened in disbelief and alarm and John, unable to hold back any longer, thrust inside exactly then. “Oh God,” Sherlock started jerking off fiercely, scrunching his eyes shut, “I think _I’ll cum again_!”

That was too much for John and he hit his peak, howling out his pleasure as he continued to fuck into his lover who was also convulsing and shuddering. Moments later a stream of silver liquid came out of Sherlock’s cock and his arse constricted around John’s still throbbing erection. The two of them gasped in unison, eyes locking and then mouths meeting as they continued to cum at the same time. Sherlock’s nails and heels dug into John’s skin and John’s teeth sank into Sherlock’s. Both were sure to sport a variety of marks the next day.

“Ohhh….ffff,” Sherlock winced, over-sensitized, as John pulled out of him and knelt between his open legs, “Whatcha…..doin….?”

John didn’t answer him. He parted Sherlock’s cheeks and watched greedily as his own spunk began to drip out of the tiny, shiny pink hole, dribbling down the perfect bubble globes of his lover’s buttocks. He looked like a succulent pastry, ripe for the taking, not once but many times over. A totally turned-on John inserted his thumb first, reveling in the squish and squeak of wet skin and viscous fluid.

“N-No, gimme a break,” Sherlock moaned, objecting but not really protesting, his hips jerking as John kissed the messy hole, “Just a few m-minutes?” He whined and clutched at the sheets when John’s wet and cool tongue suckled softly on the head of his now half-hard cock.

“Nope, no can do,” John let go after a few seconds and spoke in a manner that sounded like gravel sloshing around a pit, sexy and smoking hot, “ _You wind me up, you face the consequences.”_

Sherlock’s toes curled, he threw his head back and hissed. “Accept your fate baby boy,” John hissed back. With that he dove in with his tongue, causing Sherlock to moan out loud again.

***

Sherlock was sure he was either dead or dreaming it all. Or maybe he was unconscious and going through an out of body experience. How else was he feeling so much pleasure, how could he feel hot and cold at the same time and how was it even possible for him to get so enmeshed with his lover that he had no clue where John _ended_ and he _began._

As he had promised, John kept going for _hours_ and Sherlock had lost count of how many times he had cum. All he felt now was an overwhelming sense of tiredness, an overpowering need to succumb to the sleep that called out to him, but not before he had one last little climax.

They had tried _all the positions_ , from missionary to riding to standing, kneeling and spooning. Now Sherlock was on John’s lap and John was moving deliciously deep inside him without speeding up or thrusting too hard. Soft and slow thrusts that seemed to move just a miniscule of an inch deeper inside with each entry until something just opened up inside Sherlock with a soft smack. In his head Sherlock knew where John had reached, probably the last couple of inches of his mammoth erection had finally slipped inside, past his second sphincter, but who could think of science when John was acing the art of pleasure. Sherlock wasn’t even aware he was babbling and moaning, he just clutched at John and enjoyed the ride.

His balls grew heavy again and he felt semen rush to the tip. Sherlock croaked out a warning. “Yes, that’s it,” John rasped between thrusts, “You’re _tightening again_!”

“Jawn…..I will fall!”

“Will _never_ let you _fall._ ”

“Ohhhhh!!!”

The next moment Sherlock went taut in John’s arms, his hole clenched violently and his cock pulsed hard before letting out a small bit of semen. It trickled over John’s thumb and hand as the older man worked his fist over the dwindling length of his lover. No sooner than that had happened, John felt his sixth (or was it seventh) climax approach. He was pure adrenalin at that point, going on despite being so drained he had nothing left to give, or did he….yes, he could feel it cumming on!

“Sherl….baby…..I love you!”

He squeezed his balls and coaxed out his release, grunting loudly as he swayed on the bed. No longer was he able to support his lover’s weight or his own and with a resounding thump he fell back on the mattress, Sherlock on top of him. He felt Sherlock going slack against him. He was going slack against the mattress too, eyes closing shut. He wanted to stay awake, to think this through and have a post coital chat, _but sleep claimed him much sooner than he wanted_.

***

“That smell was a thinner Rodney uses, for his paint,” Sherlock explained, “Even I joked with him that it smells of balls and musk and he grinned, saying it’s a ‘virile’ product. I was drunk because Victor, Rodney and I celebrated Rodney’s birthday, which was day before yesterday. All three days I was giving sittings….or should I call them ‘lie-downs’ for the portrait. Obviously even a man of average IQ such as you knows why I didn’t let the cat out of the bag before.”

“It would have killed the surprise factor, now I know,” John said as he tucked into the spaghetti. They were having dinner for breakfast. Having slept ten hours straight, the two were having a late breakfast…. _or should they call it lunch_. It was noon.

Sherlock twirled some spaghetti around his fork and licked at the sauce which had been smeared against the prongs of the cutlery. John gave him a hungry look and said ‘Don’t’. Sherlock frowned and then jerked his head slightly, silently asking a question. A satisfied grin crossed John’s face and he said, “Listen brainy, bodacious and Bodylicious Sherlock, even for a man of zero emotional depth such as you knows just how a man’s libido functions. If you keep doing that thing with your tongue I will take you right here on the dining table. After that we won’t be a able to stop till we fall asleep and all those plans for my birthday, the dinner, the concert, everything will be poof!”

“Can’t help it,” Sherlock shrugged, biting into a meatball and licking his luscious lips, “I get turned on by how much I turn you on. Seeing you all jealous makes me want more sex with you. Watching you go bananas over me is another aphrodisiac for me!”

“Then _stop_ turning me on. The banana is getting too hard for comfort now.”

“Kinds hard to do that when you _insist_ I sit naked on your lap and eat from the same plate.”

“Hmmm, point.”

“So then…. _should I get off your lap_ and…..”

“Nope, don’t you DARE!”

Sherlock threw him a quizzical glance. The food was almost over. John waited till they had both finished their tea before he gently pushed Sherlock off his lap and bent him over the edge of the dining table. “I say we can have dinner at our favorite restaurant some other day. We can go to a different concert next weekend. But today there’s something else I want to do; I want to take you in every room we have. In the bath, on the couch, on your favorite chair and here in the kitchen.”

Sherlock let out a soft moan and whispered in his husky baritone, “Am I so irresistible?”

“You bet you are,” John answered in a breathy voice, pulling down his pants and stroking himself as he caressed Sherlock’s smooth butt, “And I happen to be insatiable. For you!”

“Happy birthday Jawn!”

“Thanks for everything Sherl. Just do me a favor, don’t show that portrait to anyone else. I’ll keep it in the room upstairs and _it’s only for my eyes_.”

“Done! Now hurry up and let’s _christen_ the kitchen!”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this Pic!
> 
> https://www.pinterest.ru/pin/686236061947442418/


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